Assassin's Creed: Legacy of Bloodlines
by Michael Vick
Summary: After eliminating Al Mualim and the Templars, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad has received word of a planned Templar retreat into Cyprus. He heads into Acre and bumps into an old adversary and from there, a brand new journey would begin. From Acre to what lies beyond.
1. Preface

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**A**** S S A S S I N' ****S**  
**C R E E D**  
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**L E G A C Y **  
**O F **  
**B L O O D L I N E S**  
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_They call us monsters, yet we devote our lives to Truth. Yet last night, one of their own was captured. I come to Cyprus from the Holy Land after murdering the Templars there._

_I followed the rest to Cyprus, eager to dip my blade in the blood of the last surviving Templars. Word of my deeds spread before me. Their followers set a trap. They did not set it tightly enough. _

_My name is Altair Ibn-La'Ahad._

******Writer's Note:**

You guessed this is an Assassin's Creed Fan-Fiction though one that takes place in a universe where Altair's Chronicles and Bloodlines doesn't happen, at least not in the way they do in canon. This story here will do its best to combine the stories of the liberation of Cyprus from Templar tyranny under Armand Bouchart in 1191, the tale of Adha as well as original plot elements so do not think from the preface that we'll be going to Cyprus soon. This story will be treated as if it was like a main Assassin's Creed game so expect a long story guys!


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

It was the Assassin's first time here in the city of Acre in several months. He had spent most of his time in Maysaf, taking control of the Assassin's Order after he had eliminated his treacherous Grand Master Al Mualim but now he was back. Not much had seemed to change in the city but then again there was more to it than his eye could see physically; he no longer saw the Templars as the guards who constantly gave chase to him the moment they saw him jumping from rooftop to rooftop. To him, they represented the greater enemy, tools for their agenda, extensions of their will to dominate, control and keep the citizens ignorant while they prosper. Ever since he had murdered Al Mualim, he had come to question many truths. His mission became more personal.

The annoying beggars who crowded the streets of Acre and constantly harassed him for a spare coin to lend them were still there though he had a lot more restraint. Had it not been for the fact that he was a strict adherent to the Assassin's Creed, had he been the same person he was back at Solomon's temple, he might've considered murdering them.

Strangely enough, he was not here in the city of Acre to assassinate someone, a first for someone who spent the previous couple of months drenching his blade on the blood of his Templar enemies. Out of the ten Templars he murdered in the Holy Land, he recalled murdering three within Acre's walls. The names of these three aforementioned individuals were Garnier de Naplouse, William of Montferrat, and Sibrand. Garnier was a corrupt surgeon and the tenth Grand Master of the Knights Hospitalier who enjoyed removing himself from the world around him, spending his time experimenting on his patients. William of Montferrat was the tyrannical regent of Acre who vigorously withheld food rations from the people in preparation for the utopian "New World" the Templars planned to create once the Pieces of Eden were gathered. Sibrand was the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights who out of his own paranoia and fear of being killed had his troops occupy Acre's port and kill anyone suspected of being an Assassin, most of whom were innocent scholars. Each of these three individuals he single-handily murdered on his own and had he the chance to do it all over again, he would do it without hesitation.

He had instead came here on assignment from Malik, his good friend and second in command of the Assassins. As the Assassins were reorganizing themselves after the murder of Al Mualim and his own ascension to Grand Master, there were rumors flying around that the Templars were planning a retreat to Cyprus. This of course interested the likes of he and Malik who immediately sought out to contact the rafiq that headed the local Bureau in Acre by sending a messenger pigeon. Many weeks later, they had gathered enough information from the local rafiq to consider an assignment to the city. He grabbed a horse and headed for Acre, planning to capture one of these Templars and see what he or she knew.

Out of all the Templars that were in Acre, he remembered one: Maria Thorpe.

_...advancing to a more recent memory..._


	3. DNA Sequence One: Memory Strand One

**Dna Sequence One - Memory Strand One**

Altaïr wandered around Acre's self-designated "Rich" District. It was true that this section of Acre was where the wealthy gathered, socialized and lived in relative excess and splendor though then again the vast majority of these people were either from Europe or descended from people who had arrived here from Europe during the previous Crusades, like his mother, a Christian. The name was a misnomer. While many in this section lived in pure opulence, many more people in the district were either in poverty or close to it. It did not help that most of these people worked for the very families who show off their opulent amounts of wealth to one another, for little to no pay. The Assassin was angered.

He was by no means a Robin Hood nor had he ever entertained the thoughts of stealing from the rich and giving it to the poor, at least not since he was but a young child, a novice Assassin in training under the teachings of Al Mualim. He had come to accept the reality that in every society, there would always be a class of wealthy people and under them, a class of poor people though he was in the belief that those with wealth and power should use it responsibly, to better the people below them instead of just themselves. It was one of the many reasons why he and his brothers are opposed to the Templars who only wish to build a brand new world-wide utopian society that only suits them and why he is willing to put a stop to their plans, whatever they may be.

At least, Altaïr knew, that however despicable he saw the wealthy of Acre and the other cities, they were not agents or allies of the Templars, it was not their problem.

It was at this moment that he shook his head of his thoughts and stopped in the middle of the crowded street, taking a look around at his surroundings. As always, the beggars were harassing him to no end, pleading for a coin to spare. And as always, he scared them off by pulling out his hidden in a threatening manner. A couple of yards ahead of him, a group of Templar soldiers and their commander took attention to the flight of the beggars and eyed at Altaïr suspiciously. Altaïr cursed under his breath. He knew that this Templar commander and his guards, like all the others he has encountered, would head towards his direction and bother him. He resisted the urge to pull out his sword and cut them to pieces though the last thing he desired was to bring attention onto himself and risk failing his assignment from Malik. He did not want to repeat his mistake at Solomon's Temple, a mistake that costed Kadar's life, Malik's arm, and his own rank, honor and respect.

He proceeded to step back, turn around and find another way to Acre's stronghold. The Templar guards took notice of his retreat and jeered at him, calling him things such as a coward or a woman. He ignored them and continued on walking the opposite direction until he turned his head back and saw that they had disappeared, presumably to annoy some other unfortunate soul. He remembered the tenets of his Creed:

Stay your Blade from the Flesh of the Innocent. All true Assassins strive for peace, all murders committed by Assassins is done so to advance said peace. Innocent civilian bystanders were not to be murdered, regardless of circumstance, and swift punishment would be handed on any Assassin committed of such a crime. He of course knew from first hand experience how annoying people can get, especially in the case of the beggars. It always seemed easy to pull out his blade and kill them though Altaïr knew better than to tarnish the good name of the Order. Hence his reason why he blended with the monks.

Hide in plain sight. As an Assassin, it was pivotal that on assignments from the rafiq that he not draw the attention of the public and the guards to himself. That is, if he or she desired to pass the assignments that they were given. Yet this tenet is not just about purely hiding from the authorities but doing so while performing the mission, that is, under their noses. If Altaïr desired to succeed, he would need to abide by this tenet most strictly. So far, no one, not even the guards, suspected a thing. The guards did not hesitate to move aside and allow Altaïr and the scholars access into Acre's Citadel, which a few months prior had quartered King Richard the Lionheart and his Regent William of Montferrat.

And never compromise the actions could not bring harm to the brothers and sisters of the cloak. All adherents to the Creed were to acknowledge and follow this most important tenet. He made a promise to Malik, Harash, Acre's rafiq and the Assassins in Masyaf that he would not fail, he would not repeat his past mistakes ever again. It was vital that he remained in the shadows, until the moment was right to break free from the scholars and seek out the Templar agent Maria Thorpe.

As he and the scholars passed entrance into the Citadel, memories flooded into the Assassin's mind. It was here within these walls that he took the life of King Richard's tyrannical Regent William of Montferrat in front of his men. He remembered the looks of shock and horror on the Crusaders' faces as he pulled out his hidden blade from William's skull; the blade drenched with his blood. He walked away without chase that day. Now not much has changed in the Citadel; it was effectively a city within a city, closed off to the garrison of Templar soldiers who lived and socialized here while off duty. Altaïr reminded himself to keep as low a profile as possible; he was neck deep in Templar territory.

He can not afford to fail the mission.

He let out a soft sight of relief observing that the attention of the Templar soldiers was devoted to the noise being made by the heralds. He found them to be quite irritating, for the simple reason that they are propaganda mouthpieces. They were not Templars but they might as well be Templars due to their willingness to be paid in Templar deniers to shout all sorts of lies and misnomers to the people. These were the people who are responsible for the Crusades, convincing many to join the Crusader and Muslim armies but this time, they were the perfect distraction for to the guards.

Altaïr separated from the scholars, without notice, and climbed up one of the mountains towards the top. He began jumping from rooftop to rooftop, heading to the Citadel's western wall.

_...advancing to a more recent memory..._


	4. DNA Sequence One: Memory Strand Two

**Dna Sequence One - Memory Strand Two**

With the incompetent lot of the Templar guards distracted by the words of the heralds stationed all over the Citadel, it was an easy task for Altaïr to jump from rooftop to rooftop. He did not that worry in the back of his mind that someone in the garrison would catch him and give chase. Then again, the Templars he faced for the most part save for a few exceptions were incompetent not only in mind but when it came to actual sword-fighting. He has fought them on various occassions and each and every time, he came out without a scratch while those who dared to fight him ended up with their entrails cut open, for all to see. Acre somehow always ended up having the most incompetent guards manning the Citadel's interior for some unknown reason.

Not that the Assassin complained; it made his job a lot more easier. And for one, it meant a lot less moronic Templar guards to kill needlessly. Only twice did he need to pull out his sword out its sheathe and murder the guards and when he did, he did the bodies on the haystacks before they could be discovered. He spent his time, slipping past the guards and free running on the beams that laid above the Citadel's interior hallways, listening in to the conversations that the guards had with one another, hoping to hear information on Maria, the Templar who he planned on capturing and whose life he spared many months ago back in Jerusalem when she posed as a decoy for the late Robert de Sable.

"Welcome in, Shalim. You look well," said one of the Templar captains as he bowed down to an unknown young man dressed in opulent, royal attire. "I suppose Cyprus has done well for your health."

"Indeed it has, the same could be said for my father Moloch and the other Templars currently stationed on the island. All the more reason to make this trip to Acre short for me. Anyways enough small talk, I grow impatient. Where's Maria?" Shalim questioned. "She send envoys to Buffavento Castle desiring Armand Bouchart to transport herself and her forces to Cyprus."

"Oh yes, I've heard of those plans. She's by the balcony on the end of the corridors."

"Good. Farewell soldier," Shalim stated as he and his retinue headed to the corridors.

The Assassin waited for the Templar to look the other way to leap down to the ground from the wooden beams above and slowly follow Shalim and his men.

The corridors smelled of fresh blood and the rotting, dead carcasses of the recently executed. A cold breeze shifted about, pushing and pulling the dank odor. It was hot in the godforsaken, stone hallway; a muggy kind of warmth that made Altaïr's skin sweat as cold as ice. The jagged moisture, mixed in with the steamy air, gave the Assassin an uncomfortable itch all along his back and arms. Altaïr could only hear the distant, howling cries, the tormented pleas of the damned thieves, heretics and other so-called criminals trapped here by the Templars.

Altaïr ignored their cries in his head. As much as his conscience would want him to help everyone here, he had came here for one and one person only: Maria Thorpe.

_Animus 1.26 dating to a previous memory..._

Altaïr quickly pulled out his hidden blade and stabbed Robert de Sable right in the chest. He then thrusted the Templar commander's body forward towards the other soldiers, knocking them into the ground. He then threw Robert's body against the wall, making the man hit his head against the solid sandstone. The Assassin then leaped up in the air and crashed right into the semi-conscious Robert; his hidden blade thrusted into the man's abdomen.

"I would see your eyes before you die," the Assassin muttered as he ripped off the helm. He extended his hand forward and ripped off the helm. Instead of seeing Robert's face, he saw a woman's face.

The woman said non-chalantly, "I sense you expected someone else."

Altaïr stared at the woman, the feelings that he had kept repressed from manifesting himself began to erupt inside him, bringing a sting to him. He had come He felt a vast array of emotions but the two most prominent being anger and disappointment. Disappointment at having failed to assassinate the real Robert de Sable, but a mere woman and anger at falling into the deception of this Templar agent after traveling many weeks into Jerusalem from Masyaf to assassinate him.

Altaïr shook the woman's body violently, banging her head against the wall. He screamed, "what sorcery is this?"

The woman bled out her mouth though nonetheless grinned and responded, "no sorcery, we knew you'd come. Robert needed to be sure he'd have time to get away."

Altaïr shook her again and questioned, "so he flees!"

The woman shook her head, "we cannot deny your success. You have laid waste to our plans; first, the treasure, then our men. Control of the Holy Land slipped away, but then he saw an opportunity, to reclaim what has been stolen, to turn your victories to our advantage!"

Altaïr growled; he should had expected Robert de Sable to pull off a cowardly move like that as a response to his assassination of his agents throughout Damascus, Acre, and Jerusalem. He quickly retorted, "Al Mualim still holds your treasure, and we've routed your army before! Whatever Robert plans, he'll fail again!"

The woman, struggling to break free of Altaïr's vicegrip, smiled, "Ah, but it's not just Templars you'll contend with now!"

Altaïr shook her violently again, "Speak sense!"

"Robert rides for Arsuf to plead his case, that Saracen and Crusader unite...against the Assassins!"

Altaïr was simply flabbergasted at the woman's words. His grip on her robes loosened as he tried to make sense of what she said. Crusader and Saracen would never unite and fight on the same side no less against the Assassins. From all the times he traveled through the cities of Jerusalem, Damascus and Acre, he heard the heralds proclaim their message of Crusade or Jihad to the public masses, announcing that they must join the Crusaders under King Richard or the Saracens under Salah ad-Din and fight the infidels on the other side. Never could he imagined them uniting to fight their order especially since the Assassins in the recent past have aided both Crusader and Saracen, as long as they were free of Templar associations.

He yelled defiantly, "that will never happen! They have no reason to!"

Maria, sensing the power in her words, snarked, "had, perhaps. But now you've given one: nine, in fact. The bodies you've left behind, victims on both sides. You've made the Assassins an enemy in common and ensured the annihilation of your entire order! Well done!"

"Not nine," he stated, "eight."

He would be damned to let this Templar woman get the better of him. Altaïr loosened his grip completely on her cloak and let go of her. He then stepped back from her while still having his hidden blade pulled out.

Confused, she said, "what do you mean?"

"You are not my target. I will not take your life," he responded. "You're free to go, but do not follow me!" warned the Assassin sternly at the woman.

"I don't need to," the woman said, rolling her eyes. "You're already too late!"

"We'll see," the Assassin muttered to himself as he walked away from her, past the bodies of the Templar soldiers that he murdered.

_Animus 1.26 fast-forwarding to the current memory..._

The silence broke as Altaïr heard a Templar guard rounding the corner. They faced each other; the Assassin wasn't too impressed with the guard. He was young but tall and thick like a bull, more or less around his size. A wild sheen glowed in the youth's eyes though this did not frighten the Assassin. He knew it was the untrained, inexperienced new guards who were the most dangerous opponents. The older guards were worn down by their miserable job; they were jaded and tired and were not excited by the idea of fighting Assassins. But the young ones, Altaïr knew from personal experience, were so eager to slice open their enemies that the motivated compensated for their lack of combat experience.

A light, crisp lock of black hair fell out the man's helmet and over his eyebrows. His mouth twisted to a smile. "You there! You are not supposed to be here!" He called out, his blade was unsheathed. Altaïr resisted the urge to grin as his opponent's voice was juvenile and still held the soft, crackish, high-pitched honk of pre-adolescence.

His cover was broken. He needed to do something. Quickly.

"Hmm..." Altaïr said slowly, ruminatively, and touched a finger to his chin. "You look to be around my size. You will suffice."

"W-what?" The boy said, taken back, "what are you going to do with me? Stay away!"

The young Templar guard's weapon slid forward, falling out of his grasp. Altaïr's mouth pulled into a small, delicate frown as he paced towards the guard. He quickly murdered the guard with ease.

All it took was one hidden blade struck right at the eye.

_...fast-forwarding memory to a more recent one..._


	5. DNA Sequence One: Memory Strand Three

**Dna Sequence One - Memory Strand Two**

The guard's uniform was tight against Altaïr's skin and pulled at his muscles, already sore from his more recent escapades in the Holy Land. His mind though was too far away for the Assassin to notice or even care all too much. He fastened the boots mechanically; all of his actions seemed to be unconscious and passive. Altaïr had gone past the point. Find Maria Thorpe, that was his main objective behind his mission.

Altaïr's slitted eyes peered at the young boy, who was stripped down, bound, and whose blood was pouring out his open eye socket and providing nourishment to the flock of rats who came in to consume the body. He bent down over the guard and closed his eye. "Lqd Fʻlt Hdhh al-Jrymh Ltḩqyq al-ʼHdāf bldy. ldhlk ، wālrāḩh fy slām," Altaïr whispered in a calm voice before leaving him behind to be consumed by the hungry rats in the wine room. A blast of stinking, humid air splashed the Assassin as he closed the door gently and locked it.

Altaïr strutted with confidence now. He didn't check over his shoulder every few seconds, he didn't hang to corners and peek around the edges; he just walked forward, searching for Maria. The crawling, damp itch on his arms no longer bothered him, nor did his swollen fingers bound between splints. He passed by the cells, all of which held inside prisoners, all victims of the Knights Templar. He contemplated releasing them; he had the keys of the guard with him though the sound of the guards rounding the corner quickly made him reconsider.

"What are you doing there soldat? Fixant l'un des prisonniers?"

Altaïr glanced over his shoulder and came to a stop, stamping his foot impatiently. A deep, resonating thud echoed in the hall. "Yes. I imagine that it is time for her to experience her daily beatings, I presume?" He took a peek inside the cell.

There was a female body lying on the ground, turned away from Altaïr and facing the wall. He couldn't see her face, but he knew it was not who he was looking for. Every other cell held males. Altaïr had the keys he had stolen from the guard he murdered earlier in his hands and there was the temptation to open the gates.

"La prostituée avait déjà ses coups…" The man narrowed his eyes at Altaïr. "Are you one of the new guys here recently transferred from Tyre?"

Altaïr turned to face the voice. It was a guard; a lean man with short, curly brown hair and silver-gray eyes. He looked concerned, but for what Altaïr was unsure of. "Yes…yes! John of Ibelin had me and several others transferred from Bayrut."

"Oh…well…welcome then to Acre!" The man shed his alertness and approached Altaïr with a warm smile and a pat on his shoulder, "it's okay! It looked for a minute that you were planning on releasing the putain from her cell. Anyways, she already had her beating so you would have to wait for tomorrow. Anyways carry on!"

Altaïr sighed, _That was close. I can't risk doing that again. _He looked again at the woman trapped inside the bars of the cell, _may Allah grant mercy on her soul. I can't do a thing to help her or anyone else...I'll see if I can get my brothers to come here another day. Now time to find Maria and end this mission._

The Assassin traveled up the corridors, slowly and quietly without making the other guards suspicious of him. The temperature and the smell of blood dropped noticeably which each step he took; eventually, he made it out of the dungeons and entered into the Citadel's ramparts. Unlike the dungeons, the amount of guards stationed in this part of the Citaqdel was extremely miniscule in comparison and so he brisked through without much detection. He stopped a few yards short of the balcony when he spotted his target, Maria, laying her arms on the balcony rails as a couple of guards and the gentlemen known as Shalim left the balcony by another corridor. She looked different from what she did in their first encounter; no longer did she wear Robert's suit of armor but a simple dress and cloak.

"Finally I can finish off what I started at Jerusalem," Altaïr muttered as he pulled out the hidden blade from its vambrace and prepared to confront the woman.

"Damn. How dare that insolent little brat Shalim come here to tell me this now, out of all times! Stripped of my rank and title! I was a single heartbeat from knighthood under Robert. Now that he's dead, I'm seen by my own brothers and sisters as no better than a mere mercenary," Maria grumbled, "now I'm stuck here in this damned city with the rest of these idiots, sitting here as bait, waiting for another ship to come and take me to Limassol. If only..." she mumbled to herself as she slowly turned her head around.

"Seems like things are not going as planned," Altaïr mumbled under the helm.

"You would know," Maria said as she turned herself around and took a look at the guard opposite her, "you are the man who spared my neck but stole my life. Welcome back Altaïr to Acre, how long has it been? Four months? Five months since you let me go? How times flies by."

"I've come here to apprehend you, Maria."

"I figured so," said Maria in her non-chalant tone, "it explains why you're dressed as one of the guards. You never fooled me for a second, Assassin." She grabbed her sword out of the sheathe by her waist, "I have been waiting a long time to fight you once more since our little parlay back in Jerusalem a few months ago. I never forgiven you for murdering Robert."

"Is that so? Then show me what you got," Altaïr said as he raised his sword up in the air and lunged his blade towards the Templar with full strength. He was knocked back by a hard kick by Maria, pushed back to the other side of the corridor. "Ugh..."

"That was so predictable," Maria snarked teasingly," are you really the best that the Assassins have at this moment? Al Mualim would be ashamed if he were here to see you fight against a mere Templar foot-soldier!"

"Al Mualim is dead, like Robert and so will you, if you continue to resist me!" Altaïr yelled.

"Oh did I anger the poor little Assassin? It's not my fault that your own leader happened to be working for us!" Maria teased as she pressed her sword's steel blade against Altaïr's as he laid on his back trying to deflect her agressive blows. "Come on! Is that all?"

"You yourself have much more to learn, Maria. A shame that Robert spent more time bedding with you than training you how to fight the likes of me!" the Assassin teased back, angering Maria and propelling the Templar women to launch more attacks. "Oh come on now! I'm not impressed. Is that really all you got?"

Altaïr and Maria moved their fight to the balcony to the virtually empty Citadel ramparts. It was an intense fight. The two parried each other's sword strikes at one another Altaïr took a short, deep breath. Getting a tight grip on his sword, he comes in again for another attack. For a brief moment only lasting a mere couple of seconds, he drives the Templar woman back from launching a blow. Yet Maria, also well trained in sword-fighting herself, that she deflected a powerful blow by her Assassin opponent.

Maria began hurling poison-tipped blades at the Assassin's large muscular figure. Altaïr quickly recovered and dodged the blades, deflecting them with his sword

"You won't win, Maria!"

"If so sayeth the Assassin, then prove me wrong!"

"I will!"

Both combatants being seemingly tied in terms of their swordfighting skills though that would not last much longer. In one fell swoop, the Assassin withdrew his hidden blade back into his vambraces and pulled his sword out his sheath, slashing the Templar woman at her sides. She yelped out in pain and threw her sword into the air and out to the roaring ocean waves that crashed against the Citadel's sea walls. She was defenseless.

Altaïr kicked her right in the abdomen, knocking her into the ground. He withdraws his sword and pulls the hidden blade out once more, putting against the defeated woman's neck.

"Don't struggle. It's over."

"Returned to finish off what you've started months ago, Assassin?" Maria hissed angrily at the Assassin as her eyes stared at the hidden blade, aimed straight for the jugular in her throat. "Go ahead and try! There's no point in me living any longer anyways now that I'm thousands of miles away from home...lost my respect and my standing among my brothers...you killing me would be the biggest favor you could do to me."

"I won't kill you just yet," muttered Altaïr under his breath.

"Oh did the Assassin grow a heart over the past few months? How shocking."

"Spare me your words! It's not your pity story that warrants the necessity of keeping you alive a little longer. You have crucial information that the Assassins are interested in knowing. Tell me this, why the Templars are sailing for Cyprus?"

"It has been a long, dirty war, Assassin. Everyone deserves a holiday," Maria answered.

Altaïr pulled Maria's neck closer to the range of the hidden blade. He grumbled, "the more you tell me now, the longer I'll let you live. Now tell me what you know about the retreat to Cyprus."

"What retreat? King Richard has broken a truce with the Saracens and your order is without a leader, is it not? Once we get our hands on the Apple you've stolen from us, you and your order will be the ones running from us," Maria warned.

Altaïr shook his head at Maria, "don't even bother. The Apple of Eden is in a well hidden and is out of your reach or anyone in your foul organization."

"Altaïr, consider your options carefully. The Templars pay you a great price for that relic."

"They already have," Altaïr retorted as he grabbed Maria by the collar of her cloak and forced the woman to stand up. He continued, "haven't they? Now be silent and come with me. I have plans in store for you."

"What plans?"

"You'll see when I bring you to Masyaf."

_...fast-forwarding memory to a more recent one..._


	6. DNA Sequence One: Memory Strand Four

**Dna Sequence One - Memory Strand Four**

Masyaf was a city located out deep in the mountains of Syria. The city and the fortress, served as the base of operations for the Syrian wing of the Assassins' Order, led by Altaïr and his right hand man Malik. They had other Assassins in places like Alamut in distant Persia though relations between the two groups had since withered due to their discovery of him murdering the Grand Master, Al Mualim. It was one of the smaller cities in the Holy Land, tiny in comparison to the likes of grand metropolitan centers of trade and culture like Jerusalem, now held by the Saracens, or Acre, controlled by the Crusader Kingdom of Jerusalem. It was there that all Assassins of the Syrian wing undergo educational and physical training for the trials they were expected to endure in the outside land later on in their lives.

It was built on a mountain nestled in the fertile and agriculturally Orontes Valley, their fortress being at the peak. The city offered sanctuary to the citizens loyal to the noble cause of the Assassins who for some reason or another were unable to live without harassment by the Templars and their allies in the other cities in the Holy Land and thus came here with their friends and families seeking a new life under their protection. A bustling market lied at the lower end of the city. At the peak of the mountain, one could find the Assassin's Fortress and within its large sandstone walls, the personal library and sanctuary of the Grand Master. Also held inside is its library where observers could witness the Assassin scholars holed themselves up, reading. The instructors constantly maneuvered around seeking books to further their education on worldly politics as well as the Creed they abided by. Altaïr and Malik would spend hours on end delving into those books on a daily basis, constantly seeking more knowledge and wisdom in order to properly guide and educate the Order with Al Mualim's betrayal and death.

The Assassins, he made sure, would protect their city very fiercely against any future transgressors determined to wipe the Brotherhood from existence. After all, Altaïr considered this place his home and he was honestly content with returning here. He lived here since his parents had passed away when he was just five years old. The people who he had to know, work and train with over the years he considered his true family. In the other cities he had visited, he felt like a foreigner, an unknown stranger to its inhabitants save for the dai and the rafiqs of the local Assassin's Bureau and even then, he barely spoke with them unless he desired information on a potential target. But here in Masyaf, in the Assassin's Fortress he was not alone; he was joined by hundreds of men willing to fight and die under the banner of the Brotherhood.

Yet not everything was well in Masyaf. Though the mountain city and its inhabitants were spared much of the violence, by no means did it ensure them with complete protection. After all, Templar Grand Master Robert de Sable and his army of Crusaders managed to storm through the seemingly impregnable defenses of Masyaf and bring hell onto the Assassins and to the innocent civilian inhabitants of the mountain city. Granted, they eventually managed to expel the invaders from their stronghold but at the cost of hundreds of Assassins dead and thousands more of innocent civilians slaughtered in the fighting and many more wounded. This put on a tremendous strain on the Assassins who had neither the extra men and women to take care of these people nor the funds to construct bimaristans to care for the sick and injured. If that was not enough, the foundation of the Assassin's Fortress was torn up, cracks raced across the building and the structure itself was faulty, being situated on top of a mountain. The air was heavy and hot, making fighting here quite difficult, even for a trained Assassin. He was content to know that he had arrived here, signaled by the increased amount of kicking and screaming done by his prisoner Maria.

It was at this moment that he stopped at the stables and got off his horse. He immediately whistled at a couple of Assassin novices, all of them no younger than nineteen, to come over. He was instantly welcomed in by the fellow Assassins and he in turn welcomed them, speaking in the local Arabic dialect. He pointed at the woman and directed them, again speaking in Arabic, to grab Maria by the arms and take her to the dungeon for the torturers to deal with. Altaïr knew that his friend Rauf would be content with having a Templar prisoner for him today; he contributed to the Order by instructing novice Assassins on how to fight as well as in the ways of torturing a prisoner, especially a Templar prisoner, into giving information. It would certainly be an interesting lesson for his students but unfortunately he would not be there to watch her scream in pain as they administer the torture devices on her body; he had to report on his success to...

"Impressive, I suppose." His voice had neither a sarcastic, or even an applauding tone, he said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, redundancy is key in a sense. He stood more or less at the same height as Altaïr. His hair was jet black; months spent sweating under the antagonizingly warm rays of the Sun had made his hair messy and wet. His hood obscured the top of his head while he wore a large black article of clothing over his Assassin robes that dignified a rank higher than the other Assassins in Masyaf.

"That would depend what you consider impressive," Altaïr said as he turned himself around and faced the individual in question, "for me the assignment was nothing beyond what you usually ask of me. Anyways as-salāmu `alaykum, Malik." Altaïr and Malik reached out their right hands to one another and the two shook them gently. The two Assassin brothers then exchanged a light hug and a tap on each other's cheek. "It's good to be home again."

Malik nodded his head in agreement, "As-salāmu `alaykum to you too, my friend." He placed his hand on the Grand Master's shoulders, "I am glad you're back again in one piece. Things here in Masyaf and in the cities beyond us, however, have not been the same since you've left for Acre a couple weeks ago. We've been having a bit of trouble in your absence." Altaïr raised his eyebrow curiously at Malik.

"Well, I'm listening," Altaïr said as he whistled at a couple of servants close by to remove the metal vambrace from his arm as the two of them walked slowly towards the Assassins' library. "How much trouble are you having?" He stopped in his tracks, his arms were crossed. "What do you consider to be a bit of trouble? I do hope that it's something that can be managed." Malik stopped in turn and looked back at his superior.

"It's not a lot, Altaïr, but it is just enough to be noticeable or at least it has become so over the past week or two prior to your return from Acre," Malik answered. "It does require your attention."

"What kind of trouble is it? Is it regarding the Templars?"Altaïr asked, before stopping to interject an afterthought. "It's regarding the Templars, isn't it?"

"Did you expect any less from those jackals?" Malik retorted, "they still desire the Apple of Eden even after hundreds of them lay dead, your blade drenched in the blood of Al Mualim and Robert. Surely you understand that they would not quit until they succeed. Remember?"

Altaïr and Malik stood in a large hall, Assassin guards standing tall with their garments and their hidden blades and swords. They perfectly aligned and standing, highly aware of everything that was going on around them. Up above in the balconies on the second floor, there were archers and spotters, taking care to catch sight of any intruders (or traitors) planning on making their presence known to them. The Assassin's Fortress was thought to be impenetrable, even after the bloody siege unleashed by the late Robert de Sable months ago, but they knew that even with the added security put in by Altaïr and Malik, there was always a chance of a Templar or a traitor walking amongst them, plotting to betray his brothers to the enemies. Even the most respected elders amongst the scholars and instructors of the Brotherhood were held in equal suspect by the guards.

_I did not expect there would be more trouble from the Templars, at least from the ones still here. There is the matter of those Templars I hear in Cyprus as well...I do hope Rauf would be able to extract enough information from Maria regarding their intentions there. I suspect that there is more than what she has told me, _Altaïr shook his head. He was disappointed with Malik; he had expected that there would be no problems here regarding the Templars with both Al Mualim and Robert dead. He promised him before heading out to Acre to retrieve Maria that there would be no problems under his absence but with this happening, it now appeared to be obvious that the Templars were still a threat to the Brotherhood.

Hidding his disappointment in his friend, Altaïr grunted, "tell me what happened and please tell me everything."

"Two of our own has been captured by the Templars during a simple espionage assignment to Aleppo and yet they involved themselves by joining the local defenders of Aleppo against the Crusader army of Prince Bohemond III of Antioch. They lost and ended being captured by the Antiochians. Bohemond then traded them over to the local Templars in exchange for money."

_So it appears my work here is far from over. _Altaïr asked Malik, "do you know where the Templars have taken them?"

"I imagine that they, along with the other Saracen prisoners captured at Aleppo have been taken to Antioch. I'm not exactly sure," responded Malik. "It's best that you contact the rafiq in charge of the local Assassin's Bureau. He's a personal acquaintance of mine. His name is Asad ibn Marwan; you can find the Bureau near the ramparts. You'll know where you'll find him."

"As-salāmu `alaykum, Malik," Altaïr said to his friend.

Malik smiled faintly, "peace be onto you. Best of luck in Antioch."

Altaïr turned his back and headed out the library's exit. He immediately whistled at the servant boys running around to grab his vambrace and hidden blades and put it back on his arm. They complied and as soon as they were done, he scurried them off. He grabbed a stallion in the horse stables and then headed northwest towards Antioch.

_...fast-forwarding data sequence memory to a more recent one..._


	7. Interlude

**Dna Sequence One - Memory Strand Four**

Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad is suddenly synched from Masyaf into an unknown arid location in the middle of a desert He is surrounded by seven scantily-clad women who move around him in a circular fashion. The Assassin is a little disoriented as he tries to move forward and push the scantily-clad women aside though as he attempted to do this, the women push him back and they advance closer towards Altaïr. He attempts to grab his sword and take it out its sheathe but stopped himself as a deep, mesmerizing voice communicated telepathically to the Assassin's inner self, or rather Desmond.

_I came to this land in search of him, _  
_He who has brought me here. _  
_It is he who is the conduit to the Prophet,_  
_He who is the One to..._

The scene of the environment quickly transformed suddenly. Altaïr stood still and was asghast as everything around him began to fade away. The disembodied voice was cut off; its message garbled and distorted as it was cut off before it finished speaking. The seven faceless women disappeared from the Assassin's sight. The scene around him finally changed into an Antiochene city square with a small, marble mountain flowing with water right in the middle. A large number of faceless Antiochene citizens wandered about the environment, ignoring the Assassin standing there.

_We've got a major problem, Lucy! _A female voice shouted in Altaïr's head, _I can't anchor Desmond into the memory strands for Antioch. There's too much psychological drama! He's fighting the treatment! I'm retreating!_

_No Rebecca, we've reached too far synching_ _with Altaïr and Ezio's memories! _Another female voice, though a lot more softer and feminine, retorted at the other female; again both their voices were being heard in the Assassin's head. Hearing them speak, he immediately identified them with the names: Rebecca and Lucy. For some odd reason, Altaïr felt a bit comforted at the sound of Lucy's voice speaking at the moment though he did not know what they were talking about in regards to him and someone named Ezio. _We need to proceed! _

_Lucy's right, Rebecca! We've spent too much time! _A masculine voice commented non-chalantly, _plus Desmond is a big boy. He can take a little pain, can't he?He should be getting used to the Animus after all since he's experienced some of Altaïr's memories while at Abstergo while he's become more or less synchronized with his other ancestor Ezio Auditore, at least right before to his memories fighting the Borgia in Rome. _The Assassin didn't know his name but something about him peeved him.

_Rebecca, isn't there anything you can do to get Desmond to try and relax? _Lucy asked Rebecca. The Assassin could detect in the woman's tone that she was really stressed, as if something was on her mind. As if something was worrying her, and for some reason, he was concerned. _Like a sedative?_

_Too risky...that might kill Desmond. Let me try and stabilize things first with Baby, _answered Rebecca, _but it's up to Desmond to fight it. He needs you, Lucy. He's comatose but deep down, I know that he can hear you. Just try._

_Focus Desmond on my voice. _Altaïr bobbed his head up and closed his eyes, listening in to the calming sound of the unknown woman's voice. _Recognize that none of what you're seeing isn't real...it's just you controlling your ancestor. It can't hurt you Desmond. Don't fight it. Embrace it._

_For Christ's sake! _The one known as Rebecca sweared, _it's not working! _The Assassin shook his head and opened his eyes. _Desmond's not resisting as much but the Animus isn't letting me have Desmond fully synch!_

_Give it a moment, Rebecca... This isn't easy for us or Desmond especially since you've upgraded the Animus._

_Looks like the Animus is stabilizing now. _The male voice from before commented on in a snarking undertone, _it appears we'll be ready to get back to business in a matter of seconds. No thanks to Rebecca! _

_Asshole, _she muttered under her breath, though still audible to the Assassin's and presumably the ears of the young woman named Lucy.

_That's enough fighting, you two! _Lucy yelled, in a reprimanding tone._ Let's concentrate on helping Desmond so that he can help us and the other Assassins, okay Rebecca and Shaun?_

_Fine by me, _The man, identified as Shaun, said. _Anyways synching with the memories in Antioch and beyond should be easy now. _

_Fine, _Rebecca answered, _and Shaun's right. I checked. He's ready._

_Good then. Now it's time to synch Desmond up to Altaïr's memories. Three...two...one. Synch._

The scene of the environment then faded way and transitioned into something else. Altaïr standed by and took witness of the strange wonders that were happening before his very eyes. He was no longer aghast as he was before though he was now curious. The disembodied voices of Rebecca, Shaun and the one known as Lucy were cut off; he no longer heard the conversation between the three people. He did not recognize them nor could he see them at all though he knew that deep down that they were allies of him...and a man known as Desmond. The faceless citizens faded away and disappeared, replaced by normal Antiochene citizens. The flowing fountain in the middle of the city square remained as it was and now everything was fine.

He could now continue his work.

_...fast-forwarding data sequence memory to a more recent one..._


	8. DNA Sequence Two: Memory Strand One

**DATA SEQUENCE TWO - MEMORY STRAND ONE **

Antioch was the capital and the largest ancient city of the Principality of Antioch, a small fledging little Crusader kingdom that had existed on the Syrian coast. It was the city where he successfully executed his first official assassination, against a corrupt Islamic imam named Alaat Sa'id Mohammed more than five years ago. The city, as it was since he last visited it, remained under Crusader control specifically under Prince Bohemond III of Antioch.

After Edessa had falled in 1144, Antioch had been attacked by Nur-ad-Din during the Second Crusade. Much of the Principality's eastern lands were lost. There was much political turmoil within the city's gates and for a brief period it was a vassal to the Eastern Roman Empire throughout the reign of Manuel Komnenos, forced to contribute troops and money to fight the Seljuks though luckily it was spared from an attack by the Turks.

The alliance with Constantinople came to an end with the death of the Emperor Manuel in 1180. Antioch was derived of imperial protection which had been enough to frighten away the Turks from attacking them for the past twenty years. Yet with military assistance from the city states of Italia under a Florentine noble known as Alessandro Auditore da Firenze had kept the Saracens from assasulting the city.

Neither Antioch nor Tripoli had pariticipated in the Third Crusade, leaving Jerusalem to be conquered by the Saracens. The remnants of Frederick Barbarossa's army did stop briefly in Antioch in the previous year to bury their king. Asides from that, all seemed pretty calm and serene in Antioch or at least to Altaïr.

He soon changed his mind as he, riding on his stallion, approached closer to the Antiochene walls. He heard screaming and clattering of steel. And the two guards that he saw blocking the entrance did not help him in making his judgements of the situations.

_Has the violence spread here too to Antioch? _The Assassin thought.

"Halte-là, civils," ordered the Antiochene turcopolier in badly mangled French as he raised his hand, motioning Altaïr to stop his horse. He muttered something in some foreign language to the other turcopolier. Altaïr narrowed his eyes suspiciously, he did not like where this was going. Both Antiochene turcopoliers drew out their swords and went on opposite sides of Altaïr. They were obviously not friendly in any way, shape or form.

The other turcopolier appeared to be of a higher rank than the other one who spoke just a couple of seconds ago. He pointed his index finger at Altaïr and barked in an authoritative tone. "Vous y, mon garçon. Descends de là, nous avons besoin d'avoir un mot à vous dire."

Altaïr cursed under his breath and, out of a desire to not draw his sword and blow his cover to the Templars in the city, reluctantly obeyed the turcopolier's orders "Fine then," muttered the Assassin. He nodded his head and nudged his legs at the neck of the stallion. It slowed down to a gradual stop.

"Steady," whispered the Assassin as he petted the soft mane of his stallion and got down from the saddle. "What seems to be the problem here?"

Both turcopoliers exchanged looks with each other. It was obvious that they didn't expect an question like that and they didn't know how to understand it. Altaïr narrowed his eyes even more so suspiciously and the temptation to draw out his hidden blade from the vambrace and murder the turcopoliers as they were talking in their unruly, barbaric Turkish tongue. He soon reconsidered once the officers nodded at each other and then stared at him.

The turcopolier officer shrugged his shoulders and said, "You're not allowed entrance to Antioch's wall. That is the problem."

"Any particular reason why?" the Assassin asked, the anger was growing in his voice. "I would like to know."

"Maréchal Bartholomew Tirel, acting in the name of Lord Bohemond has passed a edict stating that no one is to enter or exit the city due to the recent violence that has happened in the past couple of days within the city's walls unless said we are told otherwise. I apologize, monami but we cannot allow you entrance so it must be best if you left."

"How is that fair to the inhabitants to the city? How can you do that?"

"Orders are orders. Put up or shut up."

Footsteps were heard in the distance.

A voice right behind the three spoke, "Is there a problem here gentlemen?"

The attention of the two Antiochene turcopoliers shifted to an approaching stranger in rough, black and white robes walking with a cane in his hand. The stranger was short compared to Altaïr's height though he managed to be more or less. The stranger pulled down his hood, showing his face to the three. He looked by no means different from your average Syrian man though the many wrinkles on his face were a sure tell sign that he was a man of far beyond his years in experience and wisdom.

"Constable Ralph des Monts! We did not expect you!"

"Oh you didn't? Didn't Maréchal Tirel tell you that I was arriving?"

"Um..."

"Sir if I may speak," interrupted the elder turcopolier. "What he means is that we did not expect you. You and Lord Bohemond had informed le Maréchal that you two would heading east to the coast to make a deal with the Auditores to transport the remainder of Frederick's army on a Florentine back to Italia."

"Lord Bohemond recommended me to head back and to see how was the situation. And to imagine that while we were away on important business, le Maréchal has put a lockdown on the entire city!"

"We had our orders from him, Ralph des Monts. We had to follow them; there was no option for us to reject orders," responded the turcopolier officer to him. "There has been recent violence. It is attributed to insurrectionists, perhaps Saracen spies hoping to incite an uprising amongst the heathen population. No one is come in or come out especially the likes of him. He looks like one of those trouble-making Assassins to me."

"Interesting. It's a good thing that I had arrived to check up on the situation," commented Ralph. He then looked at the Assassin carefully and then turned to his officers. "I don't see how you would presume that this man is an Assassin...I frankly don't see it. He looks like your typically bad-dressed scholar that you have running about. He's no threat."

_Bad-dressed? _the Assassin mused. _I disagree._

"But pardon me milord," interluded the younger turcopolier, "he wears the same clothes, the same sash...how can he not be an Assasssin? I don't think he's a scholar."

Ralph frowned, "Do you not trust my judgement?"

"No, it's not that but..."

"But what? I demand an answer from you!" yelled the Antiochene constable. "If you have nothing worth saying, then be silent before I make thee silent."

"Oh boy." The senior turcopolier shook his head at his younger partner and placed his hand on the young boy's shoulder. He spoke his ear and muttered in Turkish, "ben halledeyim. kapılardan stand git." The younger turcopolier nodded and ran to his position, guarding the wooden gates to the city. The senior turcopolier turned to Ralph des Monts and Altaïr. "I'm not going to pick a fight with you because I know better than to argue with my superiors especially one who's close to Lord Bohemond. I do hope that you know what you are doing," warned the senior turcopolier, shooting a glare at the Assassin.

"Trust me, I am."

"Very well then. We'll see what happens," snarked the turcopolier to Ralph. He then turned to Altaïr and spat at the arid ground, just inches away from his boot; the Assassin resisted the urge to cut the man's throat but instead returned to ride on his stallion. "I have my eye on you," muttered the Antiochene.

"Kendini becer," retorted Altaïr.

He stepped back a couple of paces from him and motioned at the younger turcopolier, "you heard him. Open the gates!"

"Yes sir."

The young nodded and thrusted the entire force of his body againist the wooden gate doors, opening them to the two who passed through. The young soldier quickly closed them again and placed a lock on it as it was placed before.

"Ata, Le Maréchal and Le Maître will not pleased if they hear that you disobeyed the order. They told us to make sure not to let anyone in"

"Oh Ibrahim, you worry too much. They'll understand," assured the senior turcopolier. "At least we know where Ralph's loyalties truly lie. He knows of our plans or at least suspects him."

"Why didn't we kill him?"

"Patience. Le Maréchal and Le Maître will know soon of the man's treacherous."

"May the Father of Understanding guide us!"

_...advancing to a more recent memory..._


	9. DNA Sequence Two: Memory Strand Two

**DNA SEQUENCE TWO - MEMORY STRAND TWO**

As the sky grew brighter with the coming day approaching,

Altaïr headed into the local Assassin's Bureau by the walls to catch a much needed moment of relaxation after spending much of the day getting a tour of the city from Marwan and de Monts. He locked the main door so he, the Rafiq Marwan in charge of the Bureau and the other Assassins visiting Antioch could sleep well in peace, before retiring into the guest quarters and grabbing a few moments to lay his head on the simple bed. He reflected on his near-confrontation with the turcopoliers and was glad that Ralph arrived just in time to stop him from drawing his sword from its sheath and slicing them. He was much more glad to find out that despite his high government position in Antioch, he was a long time friend and ally of Asad ibn Marwan who he introduced Altaïr to earlier in the day.

The two individuals had exchanged information with the Assassin. Asad ibn Marwan, from his associations with Malik, had learned much of Altaïr's adventures in Masyaf, Acre, Jerusalem, Arsuf and Damascus in the past couple of months and was, in contrast to Malik, very impressed with the Master Assassin's skills. He asked him many questions much to Altaïr's and Monts' charigin. He provided information regarding the two Assassins mentioned earlier by Malik that had been captured by the Templars, informing Altaïr that they were held in the Citadel. Ralph des Monts added Marwan's information by informing him that the Citadel was under the control of Maréchal Tirel, Regent of Antioch. The Assassin wondered if this Maréchal Tirel was involved with the Templars; he had his suspicions though he did not voice them to Marwan or Monts while they were together.

He closed his eyes and fell sleep for the next couple of hours.


End file.
